


Save Me From Myself

by nyx_kxk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Love, One direction AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyx_kxk/pseuds/nyx_kxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie is the girl that no one notices, that is except for her tormentors. When she accidentally meets a boy, a complete stranger, who seems to care for her, her lonely world is turned upside down. (Not famous)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me From Myself

**Author's Note:**

> **Some content may be triggering. Reader Discretion is adviced.**
> 
> I'll continue this story if you guys want. I have it posted on another site, but I thought I'd try my luck here :D

It was all too much. The names, the stares, the whispers. Everything. I had no idea how much more I could take, listening to the names they called me. I was running, down the school hall, toward the back exit. Their voices echoing behind me, reverberating in my ears and engraving them in my mind. Ugly. Stupid. Fat. Slut. The names they called me were things I would carve into my skin later, but in that moment, I needed to breath and the school was suffocating me.

Shoving the heavy metal door open, I finally was outside in the courtyard of the school. The sun was shining brightly through the leaves that rustled lightly in the breeze, completely contrasting with my current depressed mood. My feet started down the path I had taken every day at lunch for the past semester. It was easier to skip a meal and avoid my fellow students cruel words. Besides, whenever they saw me eating they called me fat. So I stopped eating.

Pushing through the branches of the two weeping willows that marked the entrance of my secret haven, I felt a wave of relief pass over me. Finally, some privacy in the one place I felt what I assumed to be happiness. Sitting down on the only bench in the small grove, I pulled my box of razors out of my pocket. The razors I'd called my friends for the past semester. Rolling up the sleeve on my left arm, I could see the marks I'd made the day before. The cuts were still somewhat fresh, but my body seemed to ache for the familiar burn of the blade against my skin.

Positioning the razor over my arm, I closed my eyes and pressed the blade into my flesh. The pain didn't last long before it quickly turned to relief. All of the hurt I had been carrying around with me seemed to vanish as I moved the blade down to start the process again. And again. And again. Soon I was lost in the crimson fluid that flowed down my arm and into the grass below me.

"Bloody hell."

I froze, the blade stuck in my skin, and looked up to find a boy standing at the entrance to the grove. What the hell was he doing there? No one ever came into the grove during this hour, I would know, I was there everyday. I pulled my sleeve down and stashed my razors back in my pocket, standing up quickly. Without saying one word to the curly haired boy that was watching me carefully, I ran past him into the school's courtyard.

"Hey! Wait!" I heard him shout. Seemingly against my will, my body slowed to a stop and waited as the boy rushed up to me.

He silently, but gently, took my arm but I jerked it out of his hands. "What do you want?" I asked, backing up out of his grasp.

"Why?" A simple question, but it was an effective one.

"Why do you care?" I asked coolly, this guy was a complete stranger.

"I dunno, I just do. You need to get that cleaned." He stepped toward me again, this time I stood my ground.

"I've got that under control." I glared up at the boy, my defenses kicking in.

"At least let me help you." He grabbed my hand again and started pulling me toward the gas station down the block from the school.

I had always heard that when an assault victim is going through their rape, the main reason they don't fight back is because they are petrified. While the boy with curly hair wasn't demanding I take off my pants, he was dragging me away from school and toward a shady gas station. And just like an assault victim, I wasn't fighting him off because I was terrified. Not terrified that he would attack me, but terrified that someone other than myself would see my scars.

He dragged me into the gas station and into the unisex restroom, sitting me down on the toilet seat. I sat there, motionless and soundless. The boy with curly hair was wetting down paper towels and putting hand sanitizer on them. He walked over to me and knelt down in front of me. I couldn't bring myself to look into the eyes of this stranger, but instead looked at the floor as he lifted the hem of my shirt and pulled my blouse over my head.

I could hear the sharp intake of his breath as it was revealed that much more of my body was covered in scars, not just my arms. I had words carved on my stomach, chest, sides, hips. Most of them had begun to fade, but the scars were still dark and gruesome looking.

"You look so frail."

He was referring to my rib cage that jutted out and was so defined you could play it like a xylophone, or maybe he was referring to my collar bones which were so deep that they could hold water. I didn't care though, because I couldn't clearly see those things. In my mind, I was fatter than ever as I sat topless in front of this boy who couldn't be much older than myself.

The boy took my arm and rolled it so it was scar side up. Taking a paper towel doused in hand sanitizer, he softly began wiping away my drying blood. I bit my lip in pain as the alcohol burned my wounds. As I winced, the boy looked up and caught my eye, but I quickly looked away.

"What's your name, love?" He asked, blowing on my newly cleaned wounds and pressing a dry paper towel against them.

"E-Ellie." I mumbled, embarrassed that I had gone the entire topless and I didn't even know his name.

As if he could read my mind he nodded and then responded, "I'm Harry." His grin was breathtaking, but I just nodded and looked away.

In normal circumstances, when a boy looks at you like that and smiles at you like that, it means he liked you. But in my world, Harry was looking at me that way because he pitied me.

"Here." Harry said as he handed me my shirt, which I quickly pulled back over my head. "How about you ditch the rest of the day and come to coffee with me?"

I just shrugged, getting the feeling that if I didn't, he would find a way to pull me along with him anyway. Harry smiled, satisfied with my response and helped me stand up, his hands warm and soft in my cold, dry ones. Without letting my hand go, we walked out of the gas station and began down the road to the coffee shop. I wasn’t about to admit it, but it was nice having him hold my hand. It kind of made me feel better, but not really.

“So, Ellie. You’re a student at West King College?” His accent was so sophisticated, compared to my sloppy Irish accent. I nodded, not wanting to disturb the air with my disgrace of a voice.

Harry nodded and looked ahead, his large hand still wrapped around my smaller one. “I graduated last year, I think I might have seen you around the halls. You look familiar.”

Somewhere deep inside you, anger rose like water boiling in a pot. “Well I’m the girl everyone laughs at, so you might have laughed at me at one point.” Harry stopped, causing me to stop with him. He looked down at me, his emerald eyes shining brightly as he bit his lip.

“I would never laugh at you.” He whispered, before leading me down the sidewalk again. We remained silent until we arrived at the corner coffee shop and Harry held the door open for me.

Walking to the counter, Harry let go of my hand to pull out his wallet from his back pocket. My hand felt cold and empty, which took me by surprise, because the only thing I wanted was for my hand to be in his again.

The young barista walked over to the counter and smiled brightly at Harry before looking over at me. Her face was soft and friendly, which was a pleasant change from the other girls at school.

“How can I help you guys today?” Her voice was light and trickled through the air like glitter.

Harry looked down at me expectantly, so I looked up at the board that listed all of the different drinks. I wasn’t familiar with the different names on it, mocca? Frappicinno? Vanilla Iced Coffee, that was sounded relatively human. “Um, vanilla iced coffee please.” I muttered quietly.

“Got yourself a mouse there, Harry.” The barista smiled kindly down at me, “What was that, sweetie?”

“She said a vanilla iced coffee, make that two.” Harry grinned and handed her the money for it.

It surprised me that Harry and the barista knew each other, when I had never seen either of them in my entire life. Holmes Chapel was relatively large, and I normally stayed to myself. Harry and the girl were talking about something, but I wasn’t listening. I was just hoping to get out of this involuntary coffee date alive.

“There you go, sweetheart.” The barista handed me my drink with a smile and then turned to look at Harry. “And you mister, better behave.”

“Yes, Gemma.” Harry grinned and took his coffee, along with my hand, and led me a table near the window.

We sat in silence while we sipped our coffees. Harry’s eyes never left me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I kept my eyes on the street outside, watching the people walk by. I knew Harry wanted to talk about what he had walked in on in the grove, but I hoped he would just forget about it. No such luck.

“Ellie, can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” I retorted quietly, barely above a whisper. I was use to being quiet, going days without talking at all, so this was a complete change for me.

“Ha ha. Funny. Seriously, though.”

Managing to lift my eyes to look at Harry’s mouth, I shrugged, giving him permission to ask away.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking me by surprise yet again.

“Numb.” I responded honestly, it was true. Numbness was a feeling I was quite familiar with, it was easier than allowing myself to feel.

“Is that why you do it?” Harry asked. I suppose he had a right to know, he probably had never seen anyone cutting their arms up in his perfect little world.

Shrugging, I took a sip of my coffee. Why did I do it? Why did I take a razor to my skin and mutilate it? To be honest, I hadn’t a clue how it all started. I had been carving words into my skin for as long as I could remember. It helped me feel something, even if that something was pain. Maybe that’s why I did it. To feel.

“I’m sorry.” Harry’s apology was just as unexpected as the rest of my day with him had been.

“Why?” It was my turn to ask that question.

“Because you must be in a lot of pain to want to do that to yourself.”

Anger bubbled up through me again. He didn’t even know I existed before today, what made him think he had any right to pity me? I bit my tongue and looked out the window again, wishing I could be lifted away out of this coffee shop.

“Did I upset you?” Harry asked, his voice was quiet and careful, like he was talking to a baby animal he was scared would bolt away at any second. I shrugged, not wanting to speak in fear that I might snap at him. He was trying his best to show me kindness, but it was something I wasn’t use to. It was unfamiliar and strange to be shown such kindness.

“I’m sorry if I did.” Harry’s sad voice caused me to look up at him. Why did he care so much? Why was I asking myself that?

“Why do you care so much?” I asked, finally making eye contact with the curly haired boy.

“I don’t know, I just do. I want to care for you.” Harry admitted quietly, it was his turn to look out the window and leave me to look at him in wonder. No one had ever said that to me. Ever.

“You don’t even know me.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to know you.” Harry whispered back, turning his head so our eyes met. Holding each others gaze, I felt something stirring inside of me. Something that was just as unfamiliar as Harry’s kindness. It kind of felt like...happiness.


End file.
